The Haunting On Fence Street
by lilbebe50
Summary: After newly weds Trish Stratus and John Cena move into their dream home their daughter starts to see and talk to things that aren't there. Nosy neighbors and weird occurrences cause Trish to look for answers within the supernatural. John tried to rationalize everything and this causes a rift in the family. Will their love prevail when evil tries to tear them apart?


A/N: This is the first time I tried to write a ghost story so I'm not sure how good it is. I'd appreciate reviews to let me know how it was. I just have a fascination with ghosts and hauntings that as a writer I just needed to write something related to it. Thank you for taking the time to read it. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it and hopefully it's creepy enough lol

**The Haunting On Fence Street**

"I can't believe we own this place!" Trish Stratus exclaims excitedly as she turns to face her new husband, John Cena. He returns a quick passing smile as he redirects his attention to their newly acquired house. Being over 200 years old with 6 bedrooms and 2 and a half bathrooms the happy couple couldn't have gotten a better deal on it.

Colonial homes like this one run for up to a half million dollars in some areas. Trish and John knew that this was a once in a lifetime deal. They paid just $100,000 for the home and it was theirs for the taking. The back yard was spacious and even had a swing set and sandbox. It was the dream house for any family. It would be perfect to raise Bianca in. Trish even hoped for more kids in the future. This house would be ideal for a big family.

"Mommy, who is that?" the 8 year old girl points towards the attic window with excitement gleaming in her eyes. John and Trish glance up at the empty window simultaneously questioning their daughter.

"Bianca, there's no one there, honey." John replies to his daughter. Bianca pouts and stomps her foot on the cement.

"Daddy, she is right there!" Bianca points once more to the attic window that she exclaims to be occupied.

Being the more understanding of the two, Trish kneels next to her daughter placing a hand on the child's shoulder. "And how does this little girl look?" She questions Bianca. Trish knew that if a child could accurately describe a person then that means this person existed. Whether the child was seeing them now or remembered them from the past was another question.

"She has long black hair, and a white dress. Please, Mommy, she wants me to go play with her." Bianca begs her mother with pleading eyes.

"What is this girl doing right now?" Trish asks her daughter. John remains quiet as he examines the outside appearance of the house. Trish knew the girl was real since Bianca was able to describe her without any hesitation. Now was the real question. Could Bianca say what this girl was doing right now?

"She's waving at me." Bianca answers without any hesitation. Her eyes are glued on the attic window. Trish opens her mouth to reply but Bianca doesn't wait on it. She runs up the driveway and into the living room. John and Trish exchange a puzzled glance before following suit into the house. By the time they reach the living room their daughter is long gone. They figure she must have already went upstairs to play with her imaginary friend.

* * *

A few days have passed since the family has moved in and they love the new house. There isn't anything any of them would change. It was the perfect house after all. After pulling the car into a parking space Trish climbs out and grabs the groceries from the trunk. She turns around to be startled by a woman quickly approaching her from the street.

"You're the new neighbors, I assume?" Trish tries to steady her heart beat as she looks into the eyes of the elderly woman in front of her.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. We moved in on Monday. I'm Trish, and you are?" Trish politely extends her hand to the woman.

"Ida, dear. It's nice to meet you. I hope I'm not a bother but could I ask you something?" Ida stares into Trish's eyes deeply. Trish feels a bit uneasy talking to the woman but doesn't want to give a bad vibe to the other neighbors.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead." Trish nods with a smile.

"How much did you pay for the house" Trish is visibly taken aback by this blunt question. It's an unwritten rule to not ask how much a person gets paid or how much they paid for their house especially if you've just met the person. Trish stammers not sure of how to respond to such a rude intrusion.

"Oh, dear, I didn't mean to come off as rude. It's just, well, there are rumors about the house. They say…"

"Ida, I told you to stop that! Get back over here!" An angry old man yells from the across the street. Ida looks back at the man with a stunned look on her aged skin.

"I'm sorry, I must get going back to Henry…" Ida turns to leave but Trish grabs her arm stopping her.

"Wait, what kind of rumors?" Trish persists. Ida looks torn between Trish and the old man.

"They say that there are things that happened in there that…"

"Ida! Stop harassing the owners of that house! You do this every time! Get the hell back over here!" Henry steps down from the stoop using his cane to support the majority of his weight. Ida does this every time? To the new owners of the house? Why? When? A million questions rush through Trish's head.

Ida hobbles back to her husband as Trish stands looking on seemingly mystified by the confrontation with Ida. Why is she so worried about the house? Trish shrugs it off as she heads back up the drive way to the house. John greets her at the door taking the grocery bags from her with a kiss.

"Hey, baby. Who was that?" He questions Trish as he peers suspiciously at the old disgruntled couple across the street.

"No one. Just the neighbor welcoming us." She replies not wanting the weird situation to bother John. Laughter from Bianca echoes down the stairs to Trish and John.

John catches the wonder on Trish's face at the sudden laughter. "She's been up there playing all afternoon." He explains to his wife.

"Really? Doing what?" Trish asks as she places the peanut butter in the cupboard.

"Having a tea party, playing dress-up. Things like that." John shrugs the behavior off as normal.

"With who?" Trish raises her brows as she rests an elbow on the counter. John shrugs in return.

"No one." He replies as he stuffs a doughnut in his mouth. Trish used to be a little girl and she knew something wasn't quite right. Tea Party and Dress-Up were games you just had to have a partner to play. It was no fun alone. 'Maybe Bianca met one of the neighbor kids and invited them over. John just didn't notice it.' she thought as she set the fruit down on the counter.

Trish lets her curiosity get the best of her as she ventures to investigate her daughter's playing. As she makes her way up the stairs she can hear laughter and soft talking coming from Bianca's bedroom.

Trish slowly opens the door to find Bianca sitting alone on the carpet with a Barbie in her hand. "No, like this." Bianca runs a doll brush through the blonde locks of the Barbie. She falls into another fit of laughter as she focuses her attention on something across from her. Trish's eyes follow Bianca's to land on nothing but an empty chair.

"Honey, who are you talking to?" Trish asks her daughter as she takes one quick glance around the empty room again.

"Emily, Mommy. She likes to play dolls with me." Bianca looks back to the empty space and once again erupts with laughter.

"There's no one here, honey." Trish exclaims hesitantly. Bianca throws her doll down angrily and jumps to her feet.

"You scared Emily away, Mommy!" Bianca pouts up at her mother who is speechless.

"Hey, I'm gonna order a pizza. Is that okay?" John cuts in as he appears in the doorway. Trish slowly nods too distracted to give his words any deep thought.

* * *

Trish turns the knobs on the bathtub for Bianca's bath. Her mind wonders to the incident with her daughter earlier. Bianca was clearly looking and talking to someone. But who? There was absolutely nobody else in that room with her daughter. And who is this Emily? Trish rattles her brain for an answer.

No one in her class has that name. None of her friends have that name. Trish was positive that Bianca had never even heard that name before. Must have been something on TV, Trish assumed.

Bianca enters the bathroom and takes off her clothes before she steps into the water. "Ow!" She shouts at the water temperature.

"Sorry, sweetie." Trish apologizes as she runs more cold water into the tub. She must have made the temperature too hot while she was thinking. Trish stands up to leave the bathroom and let Bianca have her privacy as usual.

"Mommy, wait." Trish turns to face her daughter who looks pale. Concern immediately washes over Trish as her motherly instincts kick in.

"What, baby? What's wrong?" Trish stares down at her daughter hoping that everything was fine.

"Don't leave me alone. I'm scared." Her eyes grow wide.

"Of what?" Trish asks just as any parent would.

"Emily said her mommy hurt her in the bath tub." Trish stares back at her daughter for a full minute unable to speak. Dread fills Trish's heart as she suspects something is not right with this Emily.

"Tell me more about this Emily." Trish sits on the lid of the toilet watching over her scared child listening to the stories that Bianca tells her.

* * *

After sending her daughter to bed, Trish gets a craving for ice cream. She offers to get John some as well and he accepts. Trish places the ice cream container back in the fridge and grabs both bowls. A scratching sound on the window grabs her attention. She looks to the window and spots nothing. She turns her attention back to the ice cream only to hear the same noise again. She sets the bowls on the counter and walks up to the door leading to the back yard. She squints to get a better view of the yard. Something black runs across the yard.

"AHH!" Trish screams out as she jumps from freight. John runs down the stairs frantically.

"What? What's wrong?" He looks to his wife for answers. She is visibly shaken and scared. She points to the back yard and John doesn't need an explanation to figure out what she was talking about.

"Someone's out there?" He asks as he grabs a knife from the drawer. Trish shakes her head and John nods in return. "I'll be back." He turns the door knob and steps out into the dark cool night. He glances around the yard feeling uneasy.

"Trish, there's no one here!" He shouts back to the house. Trish leans against the sink trying to calm herself down. Even if someone tried to break into their home she had nothing to worry about. John had guns and knew how to use them. He was an avid hunter and wouldn't let someone come in and harm his family. He could handle himself. She glances up at the window she heard the initial noises and screams once more.

A white ghostly face meets her eyes. Her screams bring John back in. Just as it appeared the face was gone. "What!?" He shouted for answers. Trish tries to catch her breath. "Someone's out the window!" She points to the now-empty window.

"I'm gonna get this bastard." John mumbles under his breath as he heads back out the door determined to find whoever was spying on his wife. He walks around the corner of the house to the window. He looks around and once again spots nothing. "Who's out here!?" John yells out hoping the intruder would show himself.

* * *

Trish climbs into bed and lies next to her husband. He glances at her knowing that she was scared. "It's fine, Trish. Whoever was out there is gone now. I set the alarm and have my guns. We'll be fine." He rubs her upper arm trying to comfort her. She knew that John was right. It was probably just some neighborhood kids who thought the house was empty. Nothing to worry about, she tried to reassure herself. She couldn't help but let her already anxious mind wonder.

"John, who's Emily?" Trish fixes her eyes on John. He lowers his newspaper slowly with discontent written all over his face. "Emily? I don't know anyone with that name. Why?"

Trish opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. John's face drops as he reads the look on his wife's face.

"Trish, I don't know what you've heard but trust me, I don't know any Emily. I'd never do anything to hurt you or our family. I..." Trish sighs and grabs John by the forearm stopping him in mid-sentence.

"Not like that. It's Bianca. She's... she's acting strange. She was talking to this Emily earlier but there was no one there. And she was afraid to take a bath on her own because apparently Emily's mom hurt her in the bath tub." Trish speaks faster than John's ears can keep up with.

"Woah, hold on. What now?" He peaks both brows as if this will help him keep track of what Trish is telling him.

"Ever since we moved here Bianca is acting weird. She keeps talking about this Emily girl that was hurt by her mom in the bath tub."

"She has an imaginary friend, so what?" He shrugs it off as normal behavior for a little girl. But Trish has second thoughts on what is considered normal.

"No, John. That's not normal. She's 8. She shouldn't know anything about a mother hurting her child. She said that Emily has bloody eyes for God's sake. Something is..."

"It's nothing. Emily is just an imaginary friend or something. She probably saw something on the news about some lady drowning a kid and was bothered by it. It's her minds way of trying to understand what she saw. Don't worry. It's normal."

"Well, what about the neighbors? The lady said that there are rumors about the house but she never told me what they were. There has to be something that happened for her to ask me about it." Trish tries to make her point valid once more.

"She's an old woman. She's probably confused or something. Stop worrying about everything and try to get some sleep. Good night." He kisses Trish on the forehead before rolling over. She lies there unable to sleep as her mind questions everything she thought she knew.

* * *

The next morning Trish wakes up and resumes her normal routine. She gets Bianca up and ready for school. As Bianca searches the closet for something to wear Trish notices a drawing on Bianca's dresser. Trish smiles as she picks it up for a better look. She always enjoyed looking at Bianca's drawings. But joy turns to dismay as Trish realizes what she was looking at.

At the top of the page was the name "Emily" in black crayon. A girl with X's where the eyes should be, a white bloodied dress, long black, messy hair, who appears to be floating in mid-air, stands next to a black circle on the ground. It looks almost like a hole. Next to the creepy girl is another little girl that resembles Bianca holding a Barbie.

Chills run down the worried mother's back. This isn't normal behavior for any child. She shouldn't be drawing people with X's over their eyes. That was the universal sign for death. How could an 8 year old little girl know about any of this? Trish turns to face her daughter. "What is this?" She asks the girl.

"That's me and Emily. She's afraid of the hole." Bianca turns back to the mirror like everything is fine. She runs a comb through her blonde locks as Trish's jaw drops slightly. John walks into the room dressed for work.

"How are my lovely ladies this morning? I poured you a bowl of cereal sweet heart." His grin spreads ear to ear. Without being able to respond Trish quietly holds up the demented picture to show her husband.

"What is this?" He takes the picture and gives it a quick over sight. "Wow, this is pretty good, Bianca. Who's your little friend here?"

"That's Emily. She lives in the attic." Bianca puts the comb on her dresser and runs out of the room to go eat her breakfast. Trish gives her husband a look of bewilderment. He laughs off Bianca's words.

"John, do you not see this? Look at the girl's eyes. They're X's. She's dead. She... She's a ghost, John. And she's haunting our daughter..." Trish shakes the picture in front of John's eyes rapidly hoping to make him see what she sees. He takes it from her rather hastily as he rolls her eyes.

"Listen, it's normal, alright? She's a little girl. Her imagination is vivid and creative. She just moved and changed schools. She just made up this Emily because she feels lonely. She just needs to get settled in, make some friends, and then she'll be good to go. There's no such things as ghosts." Trish scowls as her husband shoots her down.

"Stop fussing about this. All you're gonna do is get Bianca wound up." He reassures his wife with a kiss on the forehead before heading to the kitchen to join his daughter. Trish stands in the middle of the room stunned and embarrassed. Why was this happening to her daughter? Who is Emily? And why does the neighbor have such an interest in the house? So many questions and no answers.

* * *

It was the weekend and a group of Bianca's friends are set to come over. Trish was hesitant on inviting so many girls over but John insisted. He assured his wife that Bianca just needed some friends and this Emily would be nothing but a phase. Trish hoped he was right. The last thing Trish wanted was to have a house full of ghost-prone children to be corrupted by Emily.

Standing in the kitchen making dinner, Trish glances out of the kitchen window at the girls in the back yard. They were playing around the swing set. Trish smirked. She used to love swinging when she was young. She glances away from the window to stir the pasta when she hears a commotion outside. Trish rushes back to the window to look at why the girls were screaming.

"Get away from the sandbox! You're making Emily mad!" Bianca runs towards the sandbox and pushes two girls out of it. Trish drops her jaw appalled at the violence her daughter was displaying.

"Don't push people, Bianca!" Stephanie yells as she pushes Bianca in retribution. Trish turns off the stove and heads into the back yard to settle the dispute.

"Hey now! Knock it off!" Trish steps in between the bickering children. "What's the problem?"

"Bianca pushed me!" Stephanie points at Bianca. Bianca stares at her mother.

"I had to! They were in the sandbox and Emily told me to. She said that's where her daddy is sleeping." Bianca starts to tear up and Trish nods understanding the situation.

"Okay, come on. Everyone come inside and we'll have a coloring contest. Who ever wins picks the flavor of ice cream for dessert." The girls shriek with excitement forgetting all about their squabble. Trish sighs in relief. The last thing she wanted was more people seeing and listening to this Emily. Bianca was already one too many. Not only did Trish have to worry about Emily talking to Bianca but now apparently Emily's father was sleeping in the sandbox. Whatever that meant. Was it a warning? A look into the future? Or a reference to the past?

* * *

It was well after midnight and the girls were thought to have been asleep by now. Trish begins to make her way down the stairs to the kitchen when she hears whispering in the kitchen. She pauses on the stairs and strains her ears to hear them.

"I can't... Because my Mommy doesn't want me to go down there... No, Emily. I can't. I'll get into trouble. My mommy said the stairs aren't safe." Bianca's voice is hushed and stressed. Trish turns on the living room light letting her presence be known.

"Bianca, is that you?" She calls out as she takes that one last step on the stairs. "What are you doing up? I thought you all went to bed?"

Bianca pops her head around the door frame trying her best to act casual. Trish can see right through her daughter's behavior. Her eyes are wide and she appears to be afraid.

"Mommy?" Without saying another word, Bianca wraps her tiny arms around her mother's waist in search for comfort.

"Sweetie, what happened? Who were you talking to?" Trish kneels in front of her daughter to get a better view of her face.

"Emily... she wants me to go into the basement. I told her you don't want me down there and she said..." Bianca wipes her eye to prevent a tear from fully forming.

Trish grabs her daughter's hands tightly in a supportive manner. "What did she say?" Trish has never been so entranced and interested in anything like she is with this Emily.

"She said that I didn't have to listen to you. And that she'd make you go away..." Trish doesn't need to hear another word from her daughter. She had already made her mind up. Emily was nothing but trouble and she was going to make sure that John knew this first hand. Holding Bianca's hand tightly Trish guides Bianca back up the stairs to where John was asleep. Trish turns the lights on causing John to stir from his sleep grumpily.

"What are you doing? Turn that light off." He covers his face with his hand trying to shield his eyes from the blinding light.

"Bianca, tell Daddy what Emily said to you." Bianca stands in the door way shyly. John rolls his eyes in annoyance.

"Not this again. I told you..."

"Just listen to her." Trish replies sternly. Bianca stares down at her own feet.

"Emily wants me to go in the basement and I told her I couldn't because Mom didn't want me to. And Emily said that I don't have to listen to my mom and that she'd make Mommy go away." Tears start flowing and Trish takes her daughter into a snug hug once more.

"What did I tell you, Trish? You're getting her all wound up and scared of nothing. There is no such thing as ghosts. Now, put Bianca to bed and try not to scare her some more." John rolls over pulling the blankets up over his head signaling that this conversation was over. Trish could tell from his infliction that he was tired of this conversation. John always seemed to raise the hue in his voice anytime he was getting annoyed. Wanting to avoid an argument she decided to just send Bianca to bed and leave it at that. Trish's plan to make John listen had failed. She'd hoped that hearing it straight from Bianca would make John get it. But he was too thick-headed to listen to either of them.

* * *

Banging in the kitchen wakes John up from sleep. He finally had a day off of work and wanted to spend the afternoon sleeping in. Seeing how the pounding just continued he had no choice. He rolled his lazy legs off the bed and made his way down stairs with his eyes half closed. He stumbles into the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxer briefs.

He sighs in angst the second he sees what was causing all the racket. "God damn it, Trish. What are you doing?" He rubs his weary eyes. Trish turns around with a hammer and nail in her hands. It takes just a second longer for her husband to answer his own question. A padlock at the top of the basement door seals the lower level off.

"Are you fucking kidding me? What is this?" He throws his hand towards the door too hazy to even point correctly. Trish gawks back at her grumpy husband in shock. He never used profanity in such a situation. She can't recall the last time he's cussed at her. She opens her mouth to respond but nothing comes out.

"Why are you doing this? Because some 'ghost' is supposedly haunting us? You're a grown woman. Act your age not your shoe size. Because of you our daughter is afraid to sleep in her own room. She's 8 years old. I'll be damned if I'm gonna let her start sleeping in our bed again. This is it. No more of this spirit bullshit, got it?" He points at her with a stern look before turning to head back into the living room and upstairs.

'I know what's going on. I'm not an idiot.' She thought to herself with resentment towards John. He never believed her when she told him things. 'This is just like that time I saw Bigfoot when we went camping last summer.' She bangs the final nail into the hinge of the lock. 'Granted, it wasn't Bigfoot but dammit that orangutan escaped from the zoo. John didn't think I saw anything but I saw something. Not Bigfoot but it was still something. I was still right...' Her thoughts are interrupted by a crashing noise behind her. She jumps in a panic as she spins around.

A plate is lying in the middle of the floor completely shattered into unidentifiable pieces. Her eyes are immediately drawn to the wall above the scene. In bold red paint are the words "_Get Out." _Paint drips from the freshly marked wall.

"AHHH!" Trish's screams echo off the walls. John hears her yells and scrambles back into the kitchen in a fit of worry.

"What?" He pants out. Trish points at the wall with a trembling finger. John follows her stare and his face immediately twists into anger.

"What the fuck are you trying to pull?" Trish's jaw drops at his words. " You think doing stuff like this is going to get me to believe you?" He brutes towards her in a demeanor she's never witnessed before.

"There are no such things as witches or zombies or the Loch Ness Monster or vampires or Bigfoot or aliens or werewolves or fucking ghosts. Stop believing in these idiotic things. You went to college. Start acting like an educated woman and not some fucking child in a bad dream. Stop telling me you're seeing these things. You're not seeing anything..."

"But I am. They..." He raises his hand to stop her from talking back to him.

"You need help. Mental help. You're not healthy. I'm not going to stand here and let you brainwash my daughter. You better get your act together and fast." He glances around the kitchen at the mess he's accused of her causing. "Clean this place up." He takes one last look at her with disgust written all over his mug. He turns his back to her without another word.

She stares at her feet in shock. Was he right? Was she ill? Were all these occurrences just her mind deceiving her? It didn't feel like it. They all felt so real. She knew she didn't break the plate or paint on the wall. Bianca was at school and John was in the other room. No one else could have done it. She wouldn't let John try and bring her down. He didn't believe in anything that he couldn't see with his own eyes. But Trish knew that these things existed. She saw them herself. She studied about mental illness in college. If she was sick, then so was Bianca. Hallucinations aren't contagious. John tried to explain everything with logic but sometimes things just don't add up. And this was one of those times.

She knew of the rituals that many women practice in the Caribbean Islands. They liked voodoo and spells. This was witchcraft. Zombies could easily be made through the voodoo spells and diseases like Mad Cow. Vampires were real but not in the sense people thought of them as. There have been many accounts of humans drinking and sucking other people's blood. This was the dead giveaway for a vampire. The Loch Ness Monster could be some kind of undiscovered sea animal yet to be discovered. After all, there were caves in the Loch that led out to the ocean. Anything could swim in and cause panic. Bigfoot could be an extinct species of ape that is not-so-extinct. Gigantopithecus matches the description of all the Bigfoot sightings. It's quite possible that it never actually went extinct and that it's just a really rare animal. People spot it and claim it as Bigfoot. And werewolves, well, feral children have been raised by wild animals, wolves included, before. A human who thinks they are a wolf would be a werewolf in a sense. The universe goes on forever so there was no way anyone could completely discredit the existence of aliens. If Earth was able to support life then so were other planets.

And ghosts, forget about it. Trish knew they were real and nothing would tell her differently. People have footage, pictures, EVPs, and countless eye-witness accounts. It's hard to discredit all of that so easily. She's watched plenty of shows that had eye-witness accounts of hauntings. All cultures through out all of history have believed in ghosts. For something to be so widely believed it had to be true. Millions of people couldn't all be wrong, could they?

She knew what she was talking about. She's done all kinds of research on cryptids and possible explanations. She wasn't going to let John prove her otherwise. He never picked up a book in his life. He never watched any documentaries. As far as Trish was concerned, John had no idea what he was talking about. Just because he never saw something didn't mean that it wasn't real. They discover new animals all the time. Anything is possible. If he can believe in God without definitive proof then there was no good reason why he couldn't believe in something as simple as a ghost.

As her mind wonders and contemplates Trish glances at the basement door. The root of this argument. For some reason Emily wanted Bianca to go down there and disobey her mother. There was no way in Hell that Trish was going to allow that. That basement door will remained shut for eternity. Trish would make sure to it. By dropping the only copy of the key to the padlock into the toilet, the mystery of the basement would always remain.

* * *

Later that night John was fast asleep. Trish tossed and turned trying to find a comfortable position. No matter what she tried she just couldn't feel right. She felt strange. Like someone was watching her. She peered around the room to make sure that Bianca hadn't wondered in. It's only been a few weeks since John and Trish finally got her to sleep in her own bed. Every now and then Bianca would come in and try to climb into bed with them.

There was no sign of Bianca. Trish grabbed her pillow and pushed it against her face thinking it would help distract her from the uneasy feeling surrounding her. She closed her eyes and felt herself slipping away. Suddenly, pressure on the other side of the pillow drives it against her nose and mouth suffocating her.

Trish flailed her limbs frantically trying to draw air into her lungs. She could feel what appeared to be the outline of a hand on the opposite side of the pillow. Someone was trying to smother her. She struggled to scream but they were muffled by the fabric. She can feel her face swelling as the blood vessels expand desperately trying to get air to her brain.

She feels herself slipping as her energy fades. 'What will Bianca do without me?' she thinks as she fades out. Thinking of her daughter gives the dying woman one last burst of adrenaline. She uses every muscle in her body to try and get the invisible hand off of her. She rolls over landing on John and then finally onto the floor.

He jumps up from his sleep in a panic. "What..!?" he shouts out with his eyes still closed. Trish lies on the floor coughing and struggling to breathe. John sits up and stares down at his suffering wife with concern.

"Trish, what's wrong?" He rolls out of bed and stoops down to her level.

"Something... something was... trying to kill me..." she manages to choke out between deep breathes. John's concern diminishes the second he hears her explanation.

"You've got to be kidding me." he sighs out as he rolls his eyes.

Trish squints her eyes at him. "What?" She snaps at him. "You think I'm lying about it?"

"I think you had a bad dream and you're rushing to blame a ghost."

Trish glares at her husband with disbelief. "I was almost killed no thanks to you!" she blames him for not coming to her rescue.

"Me? I didn't do anything to you. You're the one letting yourself get all worked up over some ghost story..."

"It's not some 'ghost story'." Trish climbs to her feet. "But you'd understand that if you opened your mind." She grabs the blanket from the bed leaving John with no warmth.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" he challenges his wife.

"You're closed minded." She states as a matter of fact as she turns her back to him.

"And where do you think you're going?" He asks her as he stands up.

"I don't have to answer to you." she leaves the bedroom with the blanket in a huff. John sits on the edge of the bed angry and annoyed at his wife. 'What the hell is her problem?' he thinks to himself.

* * *

It was the weekend again and Bianca was home from school playing upstairs. The tension between Trish and John has finally started to subside. Trish finished the load of laundry and headed upstairs to put it away.

She passes Bianca's room with a glance. Empty. She must be in the living room Trish thought briefly. She entered her bedroom in time to hear an ear drum shattering blast. Terror fills every vein as Bianca drops her father's gun on the carpet in a state of panic and fear. A bullet hole above the head board of the California king sized bed emits a small puff of dust and smoke.

"Bianca! What the...!" Trish rushes to her daughter's aide. Bianca stands in the middle of the room with a face of fear. Luckily, Trish's sudden emergence startled Bianca just in time to make her miss the target; her head. Trish can't believe what she was witnessing. Her daughter was just seconds away from blowing her own brains out.

"What were you thinking?" Trish coos as she takes her daughter in her arms. "Why were you playing with Daddy's gun? We told you countless of times not to come in here." Trish scolds her as she pulls her tighter into a hug.

The commotion has drawn John out of his study and in the doorway of the bedroom. It takes him just a second to look at the hole in the wall to realize what was going on.

"Trish! What were you trying to do?" He asks as he swoops Bianca up in his arms. He turns to his wife with accusation written all over his face.

"Are you trying to kill my daughter?" He raises his voice to his wife. Trish shakes her head in denial. She knows what John is thinking and it's absurd. Does he really think that his own wife would try to shoot Bianca?

"It wasn't me. I..."

"Save it! I don't even know you anymore. I need some time to reevaluate us. You need to leave. " He turns with Bianca in his arms. Trish opens her mouth to defend herself but before she can Bianca finally speaks up.

"Daddy, stop!" She squirms out of his grip and away from him. "Stop being mean to Mommy. She listens to me unlike you. She didn't try to hurt me. I did." John's eyes search his daughter's for any sign of a lie. But her look is genuine and he can't believe it.

"Bianca, why?" His voice is soft and eager. He wants answers on to why his baby almost took her own precious life.

"Emily told me to do it. She wants me to join her." Bianca looks her father straight in the eye with no hint of dishonesty and once again he is baffled. He didn't care if it came straight from his daughter. He blamed Trish as always. To him, Emily _was_ Trish. Emily was his wife's subconscious rearing it's ugly head. He believed that deep down Trish wanted Bianca dead. So her mind made up this imaginary girl and convinced Bianca that she was real. Emily would be the one to blame if something were to happen to Bianca.

"I can't believe this." He's silent for a few moments seemingly collecting his thoughts. "Bianca, go downstairs and wait for me. I need to talk to your mother." Bianca follows his instructions. Trish looks up to him with pain etched in every pore on her face.

"What did I tell you? Because of your superstition our daughter almost shot herself. You've encouraged all of this bizarre behavior. I can't trust you around not only my daughter but now me. You're unstable. I can't even look at you right now." He adverts his eyes from his wife. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer." He leaves Trish alone in the room. Did he just hint at a divorce? She can't bare it. Not this. None of this was her fault. Emily was real and she was causing destruction and pain everywhere she went. Why wouldn't John believe her? She wasn't mentally ill. But he wouldn't hear it.

* * *

After sealing up the bullet hole Trish goes to search for her daughter. There was no way she was going to let John take Bianca. Trish finds her daughter sitting on the couch with a tear in her eye. Trish takes a seat next to her.

"Bianca, honey. Listen. I know Daddy isn't very understanding but it's okay. That's just how he is. It doesn't mean that he loves you or me any less. Okay?" The girl nods acknowledging her mom's words. "He just doesn't believe in the same things that we do. And that's okay." She strokes her daughter's long blonde locks. "I want you to promise me something. Promise that you won't listen to Emily anymore. She is a bad girl. She's trying to hurt you. Don't listen to her. Alright?" Bianca nods to her mother's surprise. Trish would have expected a bigger argument to ensue but maybe Bianca sees it as well. Emily is bad news and Bianca has no problem severing their friendship.

* * *

Just mere days have passed since the incident in the kitchen. John hasn't spoken one word to Trish since Bianca tried to kill herself. He still blamed Trish for everything. She felt betrayed. Her own husband wouldn't believe her. Her own husband believed that she was trying to kill their daughter.

John enters the living room and stares down at his wife with cold, hate-fill eyes. His once warm and cheery attitude has done a full 360. He didn't love her anymore. In fact, he seemed to loathe her.

"Here." He hands his wife a pile of stapled pages. He looks down at his own feet for a second while Trish glances at the pages. Grief strikes her. She can't speak. She can't protest. All she can do is cry. Tears stream down her pink cheeks as her eyes plead with him to reconsider.

"I'm sorry but I can't deal with this. You're not the same woman I fell in love with. You're not the same mother to my child. You're unstable, Trish. And you need help. Professional help. I want you to sign them and then admit yourself to the mental hospital. I'll take care of Bianca. And then maybe, just _maybe_, when you're better we'll try things out again." The knot in Trish's throat prevents her from replying.

Is this where things have gone so fast? To divorce papers being dealt? They've only been in this house less than a month and already their marriage has went to hell. They used to be so happy. In fact, it was just a few months ago that John and her tied the knot. It was the happiest day of both of their lives. They've been madly in love since high school. Next month they were set to make their 10 year anniversary. Trish was excited.

Now none of that would ever happen. Trish had hopes that she and John would grow old together. She thought they were perfect for each other. But she must have thought wrong. John wouldn't even give her the benefit of the doubt and try to listen to her. He never would believe anything was wrong with this house. The house that destroyed her life.

"Bianca doesn't need to know about this, got it? I'll talk to her and explain..." His sentence is hindered by screams in the kitchen. Trish and John both hustle into the kitchen to find Bianca holding her hands in front of her face with tears of pain. The stove is nothing but a hunk of flames.

"Oh my God!" John yells out in a panic as he grabs the fire extinguisher next to the fridge. He pulls the nozzle and white fluffy foam shoots out diminishing the threat. Trish hauls her daughter to the kitchen sink and drowns her hands with freezing water. Both palms are red. Trish knows that there was no real damage done to her daughter's hands but wanted to be on the safe side.

John drops the fire extinguisher exhausted. "What... what happened?" He pants out. Trish lowers Bianca to the floor and her eyes are widened with fear.

"Emily did it!"

"That's it!" John yanks his daughter by the wrist forcefully and raises his hand like he's going to strike her. Trish grabs his forearm stopping him.

"Don't you dare hit my daughter!" She threatens her now-estranged husband. They have a small stare-down. John lets go of Bianca and glares at his wife with hate.

"Sign the fucking papers." He storms out of the kitchen without saying another word. Trish kneels to her daughter's level and gives her a much needed hug. Trish has known her husband long enough to know his thought process. He blamed Bianca for the fire. That's why he tried to hit her. He would not admit that Emily was real and she was a danger. He didn't care if he pushed his wife and daughter away. Just as long as his own beliefs weren't in jeopardy he didn't care how he made other people feel.

"Tell me what happened, honey." Trish looks into her daughter's eyes wanting the whole story.

"Emily did it. She is mad at us. She's mad because you locked the basement door. And she's mad because you said I couldn't be friends with her anymore. She wants to hurt me Mommy." Bianca breaks down in tears and Trish pulls her back into another hug. As a mother, she felt helpless. She was supposed to protect her daughter but there was nothing she could do.

* * *

After the fire yesterday, Trish was fed up with this Emily terrorizing her and Bianca. Bianca was in school and John wouldn't be back for a few hours. She decided to go to a local church for assistance. The priest was out for the day visiting someone in the hospital so Trish was on her own. The priest's wife gave Trish a bible with verses highlighted and some crucifixes to cleanse the house. She explained to Trish to walk around the entire house inside and out reading the verses and waving the cross to rid the spirit.

Trish followed the advice and started in Bianca's room. "Listen here you little bitch. I've had enough of you terrorizing my family. Because of you my daughter can't sleep at night. She almost killed herself and you've caused my husband to file for divorce. I don't give a damn if this is your house or why you're here. I live here now and you don't belong here. You belong in the fiery pits of Hell!"

As instructed by the priest's wife, Trish waves the cross around as she reads loudly from the scriptures. After she felt she has done enough in the room, she moves to the hallway. She slowly walks doing the same ritual. She reaches the top of the stairs passing it to go to her own bedroom. She can feel hands on the her back.

Before she can brace herself she is being thrown down the stairs head first. Her body is thrown from stair to wall and back again. Gravity has taken over and all she can do is take it. She lands with a thud at the foot of the steps in pain and dazed. She tries to move but is too beaten up. She turns her head and spots an apparition at the top of the stairs. It's Emily. Trish can recognize her right away. Her body is misty and faded. The long dark hair and dirty white dress give it away. Emily vanishes right in front of Trish's eyes.

Trish blinks rapidly in confusion. Did Emily just shove her down the stairs? Emily wasn't going anywhere. Trish knew this was clear. There was nothing Trish could do to stop Emily. She was only growing stronger and stronger with each passing day. Not only was she scaring everyone, but she was trying to kill them. She almost made Bianca commit suicide, she caught the kitchen on fire and burned Bianca's hands, she tried to smother Trish with a pillow and now she threw Trish down the stairs.

Trish writhed in pain on the cold dining room floor for what felt like hours. She could spot the bible and crucifix just feet away from her on the floor. Pages were ripped from the book and the cross was broken in half. Emily meant business and Trish was worried the anger and aggression would only worsen.

The front door opened up as John waltzed in after work. He spots his wife on the floor and drops everything in his hands as he rushes to her side. His face was written with concern. Relief came over Trish as she realized her husband did still love her. His talks of divorce were just provoked from the negative events that had been occurring. He still cared for her.

"Trish, what happened? Are you okay?" He lifts her head into his lap and brushes strands of hair from her face. Trish couldn't go to John for help. She couldn't tell him that she was trying to exorcise the house and got attacked. He wouldn't believe her. He'd just say that she was clumsy. She grunts out in pain.

"I tripped." she lies with bitterness.

* * *

Bianca was in school and John was at work. Instead of going to the gym like she normally would Trish decided to visit her local library. The fall down the stairs has left her entire body sore and aching. There was no way she could work out like this. She needed to get to the bottom of this whole Emily thing. What was wrong with her house? And why did the neighbors ask about it? Who was this Emily? And why is she trying to harm her daughter? Why does Emily want Trish dead? And why did Emily want to protect the sandbox?

Trish approaches the librarian wanting to know exactly what kind of books she'd need to look at. The librarian greets her with a friendly smile.

"Excuse me, could I ask you for some help?" Trish mumbles out nervously.

"Sure. What would you like help with?" The courteous senior asked.

Trish fiddles with her fingers. "Well, some weird things have been happening at my house. And I wanted to find out where I could find the history of it. I need some answers."

"What would be the address?" The librarian asks as she directs her attention to the computer.

"Um... 219 Fence street." Trish replies. The librarian types the address into the computer and a second later looks back up at Trish.

"It should be in the third aisle to the left. Look for the book _City Directives._"

"Thank-you." Trish smiles politely before heading off to find the book. The book that held all the answers to her questions. Trish finds it with ease and takes a seat at a desk to have a look. The book is organized by address. Trish stops for a second to look at a random address. It listed all the previous owners, and the year they lived there. Trish flips the pages to find the page for 'F'. She strains her eyes searching for Fence street. Nothing.

She flips the page and this page is nothing but 'G'. She flips back to the previous page and searches once more. Still nothing. She glances at the top of the page to the page number. 677. She flips to the 'G' page. 679.

'That's odd.' she thought. Someone must have ripped 678 out. Why would they do this? Was there something about her house that she needed to know? Was someone trying to cover it up?

A woman leans over Trish's shoulder and places a hand on the table. Trish turns to face the woman. Her eyes appeared huge due to her thick glasses.

"You're looking for 219 Fence street, aren't you?" The woman asked with a raspy voice.

"Yeah." Trish managed to stammer out.

"Do you own this house?" The strange woman asked. Trish nodded.

"Well, I have some news for you. You won't be finding anything about that house in here. All of those records were stolen." The old woman states matter-of-factly.

"Stolen? Why? By who? And who are you?" Trish questions with a puzzled look.

"Gertrude. I'm a historian. I'm the woman who will give you the truth" The woman states as she takes a seat next to Trish. Trish can already tell that this was a story she probably wouldn't like.

* * *

John opens the front door of the house. It's been a long day at work for him and he was just exhausted. He didn't see Trish's car in the drive way and knew that she wasn't home. He was relieved. It's been awkward around her ever since he filed for divorce.

A loud bang in the basement draws him from his thoughts. "Who's there?" He calls out. There is no reply. The banging continues. He likens it to the sound of a chain clinking against a metal pipe. He strolls into the kitchen expecting Trish to be there. He's surprised to find that he was all alone. The padlock on the basement hasn't been disturbed. Who could be making that noise?

"Hello?" He shouts at the basement door and once more nothing but the clanking noise. It's followed by a shattering noise. 'Someone is down there.' John thought. He kicks the basement door in and runs down the stairs to catch the culprit. It's dark and damp.

He reaches in his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. He turns the back light up so he can see clearly. He uses his make shift flashlight to find the light switch. He pulls the string causing the dim bulb to fade slowly on.

He puts his cell phone back into his pocket to have a look around the musty basement. Cob webs and dust intrude his personal space. A black shadow darts across the room. "Who's down here?" He asks. He was sure there was someone down here. 'Probably a squatter.' he thought. He didn't care who it was. He wasn't going to let someone live in his basement.

As he tours the basement looking for the intruder he stumbles over something on the floor. His eyes strain to adjust to the lighting. A huge block of wood blocks his path. "What the...?" He stares down at the chunk unsure of what to make of it.

What was a big piece of wood like this doing in a basement? It's aged and appears to have been here for at least a few decades. A crack in the floor catches John's attention. What's under there? He pushes the wood just an inch to see the crack better. A soft sound of water emits from the gap. John knew there was something under this block of wood and he was going to find out what.

He struggles to push the wood and he finally gets it to budge a few feet. He stares down the rounded hole in the ground. 'A well? Is this a well? In a basement? What the hell is this doing under a house?' His questions matching those of Trish. John towers over the hole examining it.

It appears to be a few feet deep. He leans over to have a better look. Something stained, and round floats to the top. It slowly bobs around and John's eyes widen when he realizes what it was. "A human skull!" He shrieks.

* * *

"A woman named Florida Renice lived in your house 30 years ago. She had a husband named Henry and two daughters. Emily was the daughter of another man named Frank. Emily came up missing and her body was never recovered. Besides, Emily, they had another daughter Bianca. She was the daughter of Henry. According to records, Bianca was taken away after her sister came up missing. It was reported that Bianca was treated like a princess while Emily was abused by both her mother and step-father. She never knew her real father, Frank. Frank came up missing right around the time Florida started to see Henry. People think that Florida and Henry killed him." Gertrude explains the horrific story to Trish as if she'd told it a dozen times. Trish listens intently.

"Emily tried to kill her sister numerous times out of jealousy. Police were called to that residence almost on a weekly basis. Bianca was eventually adopted and moved with her new family to Europe. Emily still hasn't been found. I studied the history of that house for years until the files came up missing. It's rumored that somehow Emily knew what her mother and step-father had done to her real father and threatened to expose them. This would result in years long torment and torture for Emily until she was eventually murdered. Supposedly by her own mother." Trish shudders at the thought. How could a mother kill her own daughter? Trish would never think of harming her daughter. Then Trish thought about what Bianca had told her in the bath tub weeks ago. 'Emily was hurt by her mommy in the bath tub'. Trish covered her mouth in shock. Florida drowned Emily to keep her shut. Poor Emily. She was abused and then murdered just because she wasn't biologically Henry's daughter.

"There is a well on the property. A well that holds the secrets of your house. People say that Emily is in that well. The crime happened in the early 80's. Forensics weren't that good back then as I'm sure you know. Tons of evidence was over looked and that's why to this day Emily's body hasn't been found. The same goes for the well. If you can find the well, you'll find Emily."

Trish stares back with a pale face. She can't believe what she was hearing. Florida? Didn't that old woman across the street say her name was Ida? Flor-Ida. It all makes sense now. No wonder that woman was curious. She was wondering if Trish and John found Emily's body in the well. That old woman was Emily's mother and she shortened her real name to just Ida to avoid suspicion. Emily haunted the property because she is buried somewhere there. Emily wants Trish's daughter dead because her name is Bianca. Just like her sister. She still resents that she was murdered and her sister is living a great life. That would explain the fire in the kitchen and talking Bianca into playing with gun.

Trish remembers the incident with the sandbox. 'Of course!' she thought. Frank is buried under there and Emily doesn't want anyone in the sandbox because that's his resting spot. But what does the basement have to do with all of this? Why did Emily want Bianca down there so badly? Trish's face grows even more white. The well is in the basement! Emily's body is down there! That's where the well is. No wonder Emily lashed out and became violent. She wanted her body to be discovered in the well. Trish banned Bianca from the basement. Emily wasn't an evil girl. She just wanted justice to be served. Without stopping to thank the woman for the information, Trish rushes back home.

* * *

John stumbles back in a state of panic. 'Who's head is that?' he thought as he tried to catch his footing. He spins around to run back up the stairs but his exit is blocked by a woman. She stands at the foot of the stairs staring back at John.

"I see you found my daughter." The woman says. John's mind scrambles itself. It takes longer than usual to realize who this woman was. She was the neighbor he spotted talking to Trish when they first moved in.

"What are you doing in my house?" John asks in a threatening tone. There was no way he was going to let some old lady try and intimidate him.

"Your wife just doesn't rest, does she? I knew my secret would be revealed the moment I saw your family. Your wife just doesn't know how to mind her own business, now does she? " Florida asks as she takes a step towards John.

"What are you talking about?" He replies taking a step back.

"She knows everything. And it's only a matter of minutes before she tells you. I can't let that happen. You already know too much." She takes another step towards John. He takes another step back out of instinct and habit. His heels hover over the edge of the well. The woman takes another step again towards John.

"You need to stay back. You're crazy." John sounds almost as if he's pleading with her. His doubts start to creep in. What if Trish was right all along? What if this woman has something to do with this Emily? Was he too harsh on Trish? He even went as far as to file for a divorce. He was questioning his judgment now. Maybe he was wrong the whole time. 'God, Trish must hate me' he regrets as his heels delicately balance over the edge.

The woman inches towards him. He has nowhere left to go but down. Her eyes are locked on him. She wanted to do harm to him; he could tell. She slithers towards him until her hot breath can be felt on his chest. With nothing left to do, John prepares himself to do the only thing he could. Defend himself.

He cocks his fist and swings. Nothing but air. His gut burns with pain. The ceiling comes into view and in a mere matter of nano-seconds he is over come with freezing water. The pain in his abdomen worsens. He struggles for air and finally is able to get his head above water. Bones surround him and he feels squeamish. John grabs the aching part of his torso and feels a small hole. He glances down to spot blood mixing in with the water.

He peeks up to spot a knife in Florida's hand. John is horrified to know that she actually stabbed him. The old woman laughs evilly before her face twists and contorts to her heinous look once more. "You'll never get the chance to divorce your wife now. You'll be leaving her a widow." Florida leans against the wooden block trying to push it back over the well. John tries to climb out of the well but he is too wounded and weak. Blood seeps out of his stomach staining the bones a crimson making him the delicacy of a human soup.

"Leave my husband alone you bitch!" Trish's voice echoes down the contorted steps. John is thrilled to see his wife has come to his rescue. Florida spins around not looking so surprised. She expected Trish to come. She knew Trish was at the library researching the history of the house. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together and figure out what horrors have occurred in this house. After all, Florida had been spying on them all along. She was the cause of the mysterious noises outside. Trish had figured this out the second she learned Florida was a murderer.

Trish looks determined and pissed. Florida stands her ground not letting Trish intimidate her. "I'm guessing you spoke with Gertrude. That woman just can't mind her own business. Well, in that case, I'll need to kill you. You know too much." Florida threatens Trish with narrowed eyes. Florida turns the knife around in her hand. Trish puts her fists up not willing to back down. She was sore after the fall down the stairs yesterday but she wasn't going down without a fight. Bruised or not, Trish was willing to take herself out if it meant taking Florida along with her.

"You fool! I'll kill you and your husband. And when I'm done with you, I'll be coming for that little brat of yours!" Florida raises the knife and without fear Trish charges her. Trish didn't care if her life was threatened by a knife. Florida was not going to threaten her child. The inner Mama Bear fills Trish's usually-kind-heart with hatred and purpose. She was taking Florida out. Before they make contact the ground shakes and a crack grows on the floor. It stretches the entire length of the room separating the women.

A black mass grows from the crack and floats above the ground before manifesting itself. It's Emily. Trish recognizes her immediately from the picture Bianca drew. John's eyes open in shock. 'My God, it's her. She's real.' He thinks as he grips his wound in pain.

Emily's apparition floats feet above the ground just as Bianca had drawn her.

"Emily! You're... You're here!" Florida yells out excitedly. Her smile reaches ear to ear. "My baby is back. Listen, I..."

"Silence!" Emily's voice is deep and demonic in nature. Definitely not matching the voice a little girl should have. Florida jumps back offended at her daughter's nature.

"Don't talk to your mother like that. I don't care how long you've been dead. I..." Florida starts lashing out at her daughter. Before she can finish her sentence, she grabs her throat as she is being lifted off the ground. Emily stares at her mother with intensity burning through her retinas. Florida kicks her feet frantically as Emily telepathically strangles her. John gawks on in shock and fear. He never believed anything like this could happen but here it was. Right in front of him. Florida was being strangled by an invisible force.

Trish doesn't know what Emily wants or has intentions to do and she doesn't plan on waiting around to find out. She rushes to the side of the well and grabs John by his forearm. He winces in pain as Trish pulls him out of the well and to his feet. He drapes his arm around her shoulders as she aids him in walking. He grips his laceration in pain. Blood follows him.

Trish helps John cross the rift in the ground. John and Trish instinctively turn around to see what was happening to Florida. Emily moves her mom over the well and drops her in. Florida gasps for air as she rises and screams out for mercy. With a swift twist of the wrist the wooden block slides across the opening in the floor covering the well up again. Florida is trapped under the wooden block and Trish had no intentions on helping her out. As far as Trish was concerned, Florida deserved everything she got.

Even after witnessing it, John is baffled by what had transpired. Emily rose from the dead to get payback on her assassin. John no longer doubted the existence of ghosts. There was one right in front of him. A black portal opens up. Wind and debris start to swirl around the basement. Trish and John squint. Emily is controlling it all.

The portal widens and swallows the well up whole. Their eyes bulge from their eyes. 'What just happened to Florida?' The couple simultaneously thought. Being locked in a well where she dumped her daughter's body is one thing. But being sucked into some other dimension was more than Trish or John could grasp let alone wish on another person. The portal continues to suck in anything loose. Trish and John have seen what Emily is capable of already. They didn't want to witness it personally. They start to head up the stairs and out of harm's way.

"Thank-you for releasing me." Emily looks at them and her scary appearance has faded. She stands in front of them like any other innocent young girl. Her hair is brushed and her dress is clean. "Now I can finally rest." In front of their eyes, she turns to a white light and zaps up through the ceiling and to the Heavens.

The stairs start to rattle and shake violently. "Let's get the hell out of here." John exclaims. They run up the stairs and out of the house. The porch crumbles beneath their feet and they are tossed out into the front yard landing hard on their stomachs. They manage to look up at their convulsing house. The portal sucks the porch in. The house makes one last brutal tremor before being devoured into the Earth.

Trish and John slowly climb to their feet to discover the entire house has disappeared. The only thing left is a small hole where the well used to be. The portal was now gone no longer a threat. Trish glances at her husband who has a stoic look planted upon him. Neighbors and by-standers have joined them on the grass to stare at the empty space where the house used to stand. In a show of gratitude and appreciation, John grabs Trish into a tight hug thanking her for putting up with his stubbornness. Sirens blared in the background as the emergency personnel sped to aid John's wound and tape off the plot of land deeming the area unsafe. As if it weren't unsafe to begin with.


End file.
